The Magazine of The Evangelical Lutheran Church in America


Summer school

I learned about church as community from my hymn-singing aunts

It was only an Iowa farmhouse filled with Lutherans. But to me, a Catholic kid from Minneapolis, it was an exotic destination.

Summers we'd travel there, my five sisters and I, squeezed into the back seat of a two-tone Chevy station wagon, breathing down my father's and mother's necks. When we turned left at the grain silo, off the highway and across the railroad tracks into tiny Duncombe, Iowa, we cheered. We were almost there — at my grandparents' farm.

 My father's five sisters and his brother's wives gave me seven aunts. Some still lived on the farm; some were married and visited when we did. They were all utterly glamorous.

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March issue

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All are welcome